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365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)

Monday, March 22, 2010

Sonnet CCCXXXVIII

Precariously dangling from a tree,
He mutely eyes the android enemy.
He eyes his goal with puma-like furore,
Then dives through air towards the earthen floor.

Lest others steal his hard-earned, sylvan prize,
His ready senses swiftly scrutinize.
Suspecting something is indeed amiss,
He darts from sight into the shade’s abyss.

Emerging once his humble meal is done,
He breaks into a fleeting little run.
He scampers up the half-dressed, wooden bones
And rests upon the grey limb of his home.

And leafy tears obscure the world below:
The oaks lament their stolen embryos.

2 comments:

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!